


A Killer is a Killer

by AwkwardDesigns_13



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Angst, Blood and Injury, Enemies to Lovers, Guns, Hurt No Comfort, Lovers To Enemies, Not Beta Read, Other, nonbinary reader, they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-26 20:48:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30111837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardDesigns_13/pseuds/AwkwardDesigns_13
Summary: What happens when two trained killers get the assignment to kill each other? Well, no one is expecting them to fall in love, least of all them, but a masked killer and an unknown assassin are all each other will know for the next few weeks. Whether it be to kill them, or to fall in love, that's to be decided.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Reader, Dream/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 63





	1. Electric

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing too many fics, but this has been begging me to write it for weeks now. I have a playlist for this already and if one person asks I'll put in in next chapters notes

Night air is cold against your face, but you couldn't care less. Looking over the city was your happy place, nothing could reach you and you were on top of the whole world. The wind could push you off the building with a strong gust but you still can't find it in yourself to care. 

Everything was muffled up here, air thin and clouds just out of reach, it was electric. The cold metal of the gun in your hand does nothing to battle to sheer numbness that filled you. Who would feel anything but immortal in this moment?

Not you. 

Not when you can vaguely see the flashing lights on the street as police arrive. Your target was taken down and it was just a matter of waiting for the rest of the money to drop into your account. A single bullet was well worth the thousands you could buy with this bounty.

Eventually you have to step down from the ledge and clean up your weapon. A buzz from the pager on your waist makes you smile and you tuck earbuds into your ears to blast music and ignore the chaos unfolding down the block.

Everything folds away neatly and you zip up a jumpsuit janitor disguise. It was your favorite, no one even looked you in the eyes as you shuffle down office halls. Music deafening as you dance to yourself. 

Another successful night on the town, the only way this could get better would be a stiff drink. A smile curls on your lips and you hum with your music as you vanish into the night. A ghost- The Ghost. No one would find any traces of your work, and the thought brings a bout of giddy laughter to your chest.

Unknown to you, you had been spotted. Not by anyone who would report you, hell no. But his green eyes want to burn holes into your skin. A smiling mask covers his scowl and furious gaze, but you don't know about him. Yet.

\----

Everything had been taken care of, weapons locked away, a hot shower, and a completely new outfit to head down to your favorite seedy bar. You loved this place, even though it reeked of smoke and cheap booze on its best nights. You just trusted the place. 

It was the perfect place to come down from the post job high, something to ground you to the mortal plane. The glass in your hand clinks against your teeth as you watch other folks getting lost in the haze of the night. You memorize faces and watch the exits even from your safe spot at the bar.

You knew there was a gun right under the bar, you could vault over it and grab it if shit went down. No one would mind after all, the man who ran this bar was your contact. He encouraged you to take matters into your own hands if he wasn't around and things went south. 

You catch his eye as he wipes down the bar and tosses the rag over his shoulder. His cocky smile is a welcome sight and you incline your head towards him before settling back into your habit of watching. 

The bell over the door chimes, barely heard over the music, but you still see the man who enters. Slicked back blond hair, just slightly tousled. A black button down only half buttoned and sleeves rolled up. He didn't seem drunk, but also looked like he was trying to appear tipsy, the goofy grin but cold eyes gave most of it away. 

He wasn't a regular, but you can't help but feel something familiar in the way he saunters up to the bar. Your jaw ticks when his eyes meet yours and he winks all too confident. It's enough to turn you back to face the bar and try to drown in your drink.

Fitting that flirting was the one thing you lacked the skill for, or even the taste for. You didn't need anyone, and wouldn't want to put anyone you cared for in danger. It makes your skin crawl when the man sits next to you. 

“Well good evening to you-” you cut him off with one look, eyebrow raised. 

“It's two a.m. you can't be serious.” He just laughs, slightly wheezing but it still doesn't put you at ease.

“Hey, I get that I'm not wanted, but shit, can't a guy shoot his shot once and a while?” His smile is blinding. He's the human embodiment of a golden lab, which means he's also much too smart for his own good. 

“Do it somewhere else, I'm waiting for my,” you only have seconds to come up with a believable excuse. Sam was perfect, but boyfriend? Fiancé? Brother? “Bestie,” fuck.

“Bestie? She anything like you? Maybe sweeter?” He teases, smile still on full brightness. Thankfully Sam walks up right then.

“Anything I can do for you sir?” Even though he looks to the customer you know he sees your double tap against your glass. If not, he hears it. 

“You got anything good on tap?” The smile shifts away from you and you feel like you should've used sunscreen from how electric your skin feels after so much exposure. You hated the feeling. 

So you finish your drink, barely paying attention to the conversation right next to you until Sam is about to walk away. You stand up and put on your award winning smile.

“Sammy, you're almost off shift right? I'm still driving you home?” He nods, catching your plan as you gather what little you had.

“Sure, you can just wait in the back. I'll get Ponk to handle closing tonight. Let me just get this drink.” You nod, thankful he played into it, but that was definitely a bit more than friendly. At least you could flee this guy.

He does catch your wrist though. Fuck.

“Can I at least get your name darling?” You catch the slightest southern accent and sigh. 

“You can call me Never.” You yank your hand to your chest and stomp off to the back to nurse your wounded dignity and wait fife Sam so you could debrief and get your next hit.

At least you had your music. ABBA fills your ears and you lean against the wall, closing your eyes to relive earlier. 

The adrenaline in your veins, golden and powerful. Now you were hiding away because of some stupid guy who had you on edge. It was probably just leftover from the mission, but damn. Why had he set off all your alarms? 

Sam walks in, so you shake off the worry and shit off the music. He always demanded full attention. He sits down across from you.

“Good news, great news, and bad news.” You always did this, so you immediately lean forward with a smile.

“Good news first”

“Cops couldn't even identify where the bullet came from other than the side of the building cause one of the other guests moved the body.” 

“Bad news?”

“There's a hit on you.” You furrow your brow, that wasn't exactly new for your line of work, but you weren't well known in the business. 

“Do we know why?”

“Not yet kid, just that it's been sent to Dream.” That makes your stomach drop. The masked killer. No one could catch him and no one had seen his face so you had no way to stay prepared other than to be hyper aware. Fucking hell. Your head drops to your hands and you groan.

“I'm so dead, but at least give me the great news so I can die happy.” He chuckles, and you have to relax. Sam was great at getting you to do that.

“You've got a hit on him. 5 million. And he's already nearby because of you so you won't have to track him down.” Your eyes light up. You can already taste the prize and your chest warms.

“I'm in.”

“I had no doubt. You're my dumbest recruit.”

“You love me.”

“Love Ponk more,” 

You both fall into laughter. It was exactly the news you needed to not dread walking outside again. Of course you'd have to up security and get your shit together, but this was feasible. All you had to do was kill an unkillable, unknown man. You'd done a lot in your career, but this would top everything. Maybe you could turn his mask into your own, claim the masked killer's title.

Oh how great that would be. It makes you grin and start to plan. 

This was irresistible.

For both of you.


	2. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream has a plan, and it's a long haul. What can he say, he likes to watch a bright flame flicker and turn to ash under his direction, and you were the brightest he's seen in a long while.

Dream was a smart man. He knew finding another assassin would be hard, especially one with a rep like yours. You left every crime scene clean, no witnesses, rarely any clues outside of the bullet. So he did what a smart man would do. Hire you. 

That clean shot? He'd watched it happen. He'd watched you set up, take aim, fire, and then meticulously clean. He'd also watched you standing on the edge of the building, a billboard's floodlights giving you a halo and he could've shot you down then and there. 

But he didn't. 

The gun was in his hands, bullet loaded, finger on the trigger, but something about how you stood there, watching the world turn around you made him crave to learn about you before killing you. To take all your secrets for himself, keep them tucked away in little journals and then burn you to ashes so he would be the only one to have it. 

To have your burning soul in his mind. In his chest, beating alongside his heart.

So the safety clicks on and he steps back into shadow, watching you clean and scrub and disguise yourself. The smile on his face is so strong it hurts when your eyes flick over his hiding place. Your life was in his hands, and you would be grateful for it before you died. Grateful he spared you for so long, that he deigned you worthy of his time, that it was his hands taking your last breath and not some stranger who didn't know you.

Oh how sweet and intimate it would be. So he would let you burn bright against his better judgment and watch you flicker until he snuffed your flame with ease.

That night he had followed you from a distance, until you had settled in at the rundown bar. It was definitely not his taste, and he couldn't imagine it was yours either, with how… well you had dressed. Still, he can't take his eyes off of the way you lounge like you own the building. 

It seemed you might as well, with how quick they were to hand you a drink, how the customers recognize you and offer cheers to you. When you laugh it makes the fire in his chest burn brighter. He wanted to hear it, to record it and hide it away with the rest of you. 

So he walked inside. No mask, sleeves rolled up and a fake tipsy smile pasted on. Maybe he could flirt his way into your life first. Turns out to be a mistake. 

He thinks your eyes on him are because he's attractive, but when he sees the glint of distrust he knows he comes across as suspicious. He should've actually taken a drink before coming in then. Maybe brush up on his acting skills. 

You resisting doesn't do anything but add fuel to the flames and he has to ramp down the building excitement. You were smart and he loved every moment of it, because while you were smart, you weren't smart enough to realize just how much danger you were in.

Watching you leave to the back room out of the corner of his eye is great. It gives him the chance to talk to ‘Sam’ 

\----

Your apartment is locked right and you play music on the loudspeaker for once, instead of earbuds. You don't care if the neighbors can hear, it was a shitty enough hole in the wall apartment that they didn't worry about noise complaints. 

Of course, you didn't keep your normal store of weapons here, cops were a common enough occurrence that it was a risk. So you spend your time with the blasting music cleaning your handgun and making a plan of attack. 

Kevlar would be making more of an appearance in your wardrobe, and you start pulling articles about Dream and pinning them to the wall. Any information would be good information. He may be faceless, but you were a ghost. Someone without a face can still be killed, though they may be harder to track. 

Red strings to duck under crissc around the apartment and you move nimbly around them, warm mug of coffee in your palms as you plot. Of course Sam would've been willing to help, but this was your job. Your kill.

You'd even managed to track down a picture of the mask. It was blurred and hard to grasp any sense of what the man behind it looked like, but it was more than enough for you. You'd drawn horns onto the photo and a gunshot wound in the forehead. 

By the end of the day you were tired of being inside, it was safe, sure, but god it was boring.

You strap up in Kevlar under a loose fitting outfit and tuck the pistol against your hip before you duck outside. Good thing for Dream, he was entranced by you, but again, he was shocked with your preferred settings. 

Money should be nothing to you, you were a hitman. Of course it was easy to lay low in places like this, but you shouldn't need to. Your rep as the ghost should mean you didn't need to hide. No one knew who you were. And fuck, he'd paid you plenty enough for that last job for you to live lavishly for half a year.

Why weren't you using it?

He wanted you to use his money, pretend he'd been the one to spend it on you, spoil you so you wouldn't fight.

Whatever.

At least you were leaving the trashy apartment. He could follow you, but he could also stay and comb your apartment. It would be easy enough. The locks were tight, but opening the window from the fire escape was easy.

It doesn't even stick on the slide up. Of course, Dream has his mask on, just in case, as he slinks into the apartment. 

Your kitchen was decent, but the calendar pinned on the fridge catches his eye. Going for groceries on Thursday, he could run into you there. He does open the fridge to find it almost empty. Once again… why don't you spend money?

Eventually he leaves the kitchen and moves to the bathroom. Sticky notes cover the mirror and he can't help but add a smiling face to one. It's his signature, and maybe a little fear would do you some good. 

Everything he sees is added to a mental note to be written down later, and he already had sketches of you from the morning in the first journal of hopefully many. 

It wasn't a useless adventure, but he got less information than he wanted. It would be easier if you would just let him get to know you, but he would still enjoy the fight. 

For once, he was looking forward to grocery shopping. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, my other works are better than this, but it's getting there. It's very different from my usual tropes.


	3. Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grocery shopping turns into quite the event that you hadn't expected, but maybe you can find comfort in a different kind of burn, subtler than the electricity in your veins.

Days pass and you don't leave your apartment without your pistol, without Sam knowing your location, and definitely not without a backup plan. It wasn't what you were used to, but you can't help but love the crackling intensity of adrenaline that fills you to the brim. 

It felt like pure lightning in your veins when you left the house, eyes tracking everyone you passed just in case. It burned you up but also charged you with energy. You felt like you could do anything, the same way you felt after a hit but the high didn't disappear. How delicious.

Currently you are stepping into your local grocery, trying to hide with a ball cap and baggy clothes as you run around the store getting the essentials to stock up. Sam was on you about leaving the house so often with a killer after you, but you enjoyed it too much to stop. You scan the shelves to pick out enough canned soup to feed an army when your eyes catch on a head of tousled blond hair.

The asshole from the bar. 

The exact wrong type of electric feeling. He felt like tv static in your memory, and you didn't like the clinging feeling in your bones when you looked at him. He was shopping too it seemed. A large cart full of junk food and his phone open to check what you assume is a grocery list.

You groan and try to focus back into your surroundings. You needed to be on alert, and you needed to get this done and paid for. You continue through the store, avoiding people's gaze and filling your cart. You're just about to grab the last of what you need when shit happens.

You step away from your cart for just a minute, only to feel something ram into your side and knock you over. Rage boils up in you and your hand itches to reach for something to attack with, until your vision focuses. 

It was him. Again.

“-oh my god, I didn't mean to hit you, I wasn't watching where I was going. I mean- you weren't either, but I still feel bad, and you fell over, so I guess I owe you or whatever?-”

“Shut up, please.” You snap and start to try and stand only for him to rush over and grab you by the waist to help you stand.

“Oh! Sorry, I can get like that sometimes, god I'm sorry, let me help you-”

“Are you ever quiet? Lordy…” you rip his hands away from you and pick up the now dented box of popsicles.

He chuckles sheepishly and holds his hands up in surrender, still a fucking golden boy. Even after running you over, you scowl and try to walk away when something lights up in his eyes. You don't have enough time to register it before he opens his mouth and you have to fight the eye roll.

“Wait! I've met you before, at the bar.” He smiles all proud of himself, “I know we didn't get off on the right foot, and I just ran you over, but I still want to get to know you-” you hold up a hand to stop him.

“Just stop. The only thing you can do for me is buy my groceries and leave me alone.” You expect him to fight the request but he just nods emphatically.

“Only if you let me add a few things to your cart,” he winks and you sigh with a shrug. 

He leads you around the store, head on a swivel as he watches to make sure you're still behind him. He tosses ridiculous items into your cart, surprisingly your favorite candies, a bottle of nice wine, and a bouquet.

“Too make it up to you.” He explains and you can't help but smile back. Curse his infectious charm.

The two of you get up to the check out and he continues to banter at you, not caring that you rarely respond, seemingly happy to watch your reactions until he pulls out his card and pays.

It's then when you realize he left his cart in the middle of the store. You are just about to question it when he turns to you with that same glowing grin.

“Need help loading your car? I mean, I'm sure you've got it, but I still feel like I owe you.”

“You're good man. No worries. I have a high pain tolerance and was just using you for free food.” You toss the taunt his way.

“Oh come on, you've gotta let me help, at least let me walk you to your car?”

“And why should I let you do that? I barely know you?”

“Well I can fix that!” He holds out his hand to shake, “I'm Clay, pleasure to meet you, might I ask your name?” You have to roll your eyes at this, but you shake his hand anyway.

“No you may not, but I guess you can walk me to my car  _ Clayton _ ” you snicker when his face falls but he rushes to follow you.

“That's not my name, come on,”

“I don't know what you mean  _ Clara _ ,” now you were going to push it.

“That's a girls name! Please, you're killing me”

“Whatever you say  _ Caesar _ ” 

“That doesn't even sound close, you're definitely sent to kill me, just pull the trigger now so I don't have to suffer.” 

The teasing continues and so do his dramatics. Maybe you were wrong about Tv static. Maybe you could get used to how it felt filling up your nerve endings. He helps load your bags up and you both stand awkwardly without anything to do.

“You should go get your cart. You left it in the freezer aisle dumbass.” You eventually speak up, keys in your hand and ready to drive off.

“Oh right, guess I got distracted,” he pauses and a smirk curls up on his features, “what can I say-”

“I make a good distraction, but you don't. I have to get back to work, Cole.” You wave before hopping into your drivers seat and speeding off leaving him in the dust. You can't help but watch him in the rearview mirror, the smallest smile on your face. 

A half decent distraction, but nothing compared to Dream. You had bigger fish to fry, maybe you'd come back for him someday.

\----

Dream can't help how he acts around you. Your spark was enough to set him off like a firework and he liked how much you fought back. Even so, watching you melt like a candle when confronted with him over time made his own fire grow and ache to consume yours.

Even just spotting you in the store had set him off. His boss was on him about how long it was taking to get rid of you, but he couldn't give less of a shit. This was his kill, and you were his. 

In the store he hadn't meant to run into you, but someone had been following you through the store and he couldn't just stand by and watch. So he stepped in. 

Of course seeing you hurt pulled at some string in his chest, but at least it was him doing it. With him right next to you after abandoning his cart the creep wouldn't take up the challenge. And if he did? Well, he'd have two assassins on him before he could try to apologize.

Just the thought of you fighting next to him? Oh it festered in his brain. Fighting side by side, forced onto the same team only to flip on one another at the end when everyone else had been wiped out. He could see you pinned against the wall and using all your fire to squirm and headbutt his mask off-

He can't fall into that now, but he did file it for later. 

He gives you a good half hour before he follows to your apartment. He knows you're home by the loud music filtering out the open window. You must be cooking. 

Binoculars focus in to watch you putting groceries away, the flowers in a vase already on the table. It makes him grin when you stop to smell them. Something of his was in there, he'd left his mark in your space and that was enough of a claim for now. 

It's only when Sam walks into the apartment that his smile drops. You start babbling to him excitedly, and he wants to find it endearing, but he also wants it to be him that you ramble about nothing to. 

Only a bit longer. You would go soft for Clay, and then Dream could swoop in. Who cares if they were the same person, you would be wholly his and then he would watch you crumble to ashes.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna need some more C names for future chapters, but don't worry, you'll meet "Dream" soon


	4. Charge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You both get a little ballsy when confronted with a new threat.   
> Your threat is Dream.  
> His threat is someone else after you.

“I thought you hated the guy?” Sam leans against the counter, flipping through junk mail spread across the free surface.

“I did, I do, he just-” you pause and set down the plate you were scrubbing, “ya know how I described my first job?”

“Sticky and depressing?” You can't help but laugh and Sam cracks a smile.

“Not the guy, the feeling Sam. He feels the same way. Like rolling static across my skin. Like I could burn the world to the ground with just a touch.” You smile and Sam sighs.

“Ya know I want you to be happy kid-”

“Like you and Ponk,” he nods and chuckles,

“Yeah, but you should make sure to listen to your gut. You're still being hunted down by a guy who no one's seen.” It's your turn to nod towards him. 

He was probably right, you shouldn't see the guy again until you know you're safe, but god was he addictive. Your hand drifts to your waist where he'd grabbed you to help you stand. It still tingled and you can't help but ache for it. He was a drug that you can't afford.

Eventually Sam has to disappear again, pressing some information into your hand and a fatherly kiss to your temple. 

“Ponkie has dinner plans for me, stay safe.” He says as the door starts to close.

“If I don't you'll hunt me down and make sure I regret it, I know dad.” You smile and he just rolls his eyes at the familiar tease.

“I'm still not your dad, Ponk would kill me if I let our kid go on dangerous missions.” You close the door with a fond wave and grin before falling against it.

The flowers catch your eye again. They were beautiful, and you can't get enough of them. With a quick thought you pull out an old field book with the language of flowers scrawled inside. You used to have it memorized, but time has lessened the skill.

_ Hyacinth - Game or Play _

_ Daffodil - Deceitful Hope _

_ Chamomile - Energy in Adversity _

_ Black rose - obsession _

A strange combination, but he hadn't hesitated long enough for it to be a conscious decision no doubt. It still unsettles you, but not enough for you to trash the bouquet. It was a nice addition to the place, something you didn't have to splurge on while still letting yourself be spoiled.

A hot shower is exactly the cure. The steam fills the room and fogs the mirror. Music keeps thought from creeping in where you don't want it and you can feel the nerves boiling off of you. It's heaven and hell in one breath and you adore it.

It's only when you step out, ready to dry off and crawl into bed that you check your notes. You should probably add a few more in all honesty, muse hadn't called for you in a few days now and she would usually reach closer if you called for her. You uncap a pen lodged in your toothbrush holder and pull a fresh sticky note off.

_ “Maybe the flowers don't burn up in electricity, but I just might” _

A random thought, but that's what this was. Random notes that stay up until the steam forces them off. Something strange catches your eye. Heavier writing that was most definitely not yours. 

Your lines were crisp and even on every note, but the strange and small symbol is scratched down and on an angle. A single smiling face.

You can't fight the mirroring one on your face. 

So he'd found you. Wonderful. You wouldn't have to go hunting for him then. You could go about your normal business and wait for him to get the balls to attempt the kill.

\----

Back in the cold night air, you smile into the wind as it pushes and pulls at you. You weren't one for hiding, and so you stand atop your favorite building in town watching the night pass you by. It's peaceful, but you still thrum with energy and excitement. You might have your chance tonight. 

Of course, you weren't alone by any means. You had Sam on call in case you needed backup, a few weapons tucked next to you, and you could feel the energy of nightlife in your bones. Even if it wasn't yours, nightlife held a special place in your heart. It always helped you blend and hide the mistakes.

So you can enjoy the night air. You let the noises blend together and you stand against the world. Not a thought of fear in you.

Dream would call it foolish if it wasn't you. If he didn't love to watch you blustering against the sky and let the lights halo you in neon. Too bad you were waiting to kill him, he'd love to see you in action again. The way you take a deep breath right before you pull the trigger. How you shake the ringing in your ears off with a whole body shake before watching with that fire in your eyes. 

At least this time he was closer. Same roof and all. It was honestly surprising you hadn't been set off by his presence yet. Maybe his stunt in the grocery store had been more useful than he'd thought.

You don't play your music and it's strange for the both of you. You because it was so purely yours that it was strange to exist without it. Dream because he had grown accustomed to the constant noise over the past few days. 

You let out a sigh and are just about to head back out into the night, maybe to bother Ponk since he was bartending tonight, when chaos erupts.

You didn't like that this was becoming a habit.

Dream was the first to notice it, the glint of gun metal in the neon light, and he knows it's aimed at you, he's too far hidden in the shadows. You only notice when the shit goes off. The asshole forgot his silencer, expecting the night to carry the sound away. 

What you expect is the blunt force against you abdomen of a bullet hitting Kevlar. What you aren't expecting is the full body tackle you receive instead. You find yourself dizzy from the sudden movement and too disoriented to pick out your assailant. 

It was probably just Sam right? Being overprotective like usual. No, he-

Why was he wearing a mask?

“Sorry we had to meet like this.” The voice only serves to confuse you more, but you blink again to see the smile carved into the mask material.

“Dream? Why would you- you aren't the one you fired the gun?” He laughs and you hesitate. It feels familiar.

“I would never kill you with a bullet. Besides, a knife is better to cut through Kevlar, love.” He pulls at the fabric peeking out from your shirt.

You want to yell, to scream and call for Sam. But you don't. Instead you just break your hand free from his grip and shove up the mask. You needed something from this encounter and your knife was too far away to just grab.

His eyes meet yours, no longer hidden and you can't stop the shock from crossing your face, only to see him smile that stupid blinding grin.

“Clay..”

“So you do know my name.” He teases and you snort, pushing at his shoulder. 

“Shut up. We should move.”

“Good idea darling. I knew you were smarter than you looked.” 

“If you don't quit, I'll make you regret saving me.” He just pulls away, pulling his mask back into place as well. “I know what's behind the mask now, so I'd suggest doing what I say.”

“Wouldn't think of anything else” that stupid smirk makes you regret this, but until you understand the situation he had saved you, and that was enough. 

For now.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone want the playlist? Cause I'll drop it it the next chapter if so.


	5. Explosive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the attempt, and some leftover static cling sets off the both of you. Is it good or bad? You'd probably have to say bad.

He was following you like a puppy. You had tried to lose him on the roof, grabbing all your things and tossing them to him to carry. Of course, you held onto the weapons but if he was going to be annoying he could carry something. That was your excuse before you bolt to the fire escape. 

Common decency was the only thing keeping you from firing a shot at him, he'd saved your life after all, but that didn't mean you couldn't ditch him. Sadly he was almost as nimble as you. As soon as you skitter onto the rickety railing he's on your tail, balancing your stuff on one shoulder and eyes trained on you.

Annoying.

So you duck into a smaller window and sigh when the room appears just to be a storage space. Nothing really to hide, and the door was probably locked. You are just about to turn back and step into the air again only to be greeted by his smiling mask.

“Did you need a break? You knew this was a locked room right?” He teases and you want to shove him out of the window, but you hold back. Sam would be proud of your control, maybe not who you decided to show it too, but still. 

“No, I wanted to question you, this was the safest place I could think to do it.” You straight face him and lean against a stack of boxes.

“Oh come on, you already know me, no need for questions, love.”

“Listen Chad, I need to know why you haven't tried to kill me yet. Stalking isn't your usual style.” He huffs at the name but slides into the room with you.

“Looks like someone did their research, I'm flattered.” He tries to dodge.

“Doesn't answer the question, if you don't I won't hesitate to shoot you.” He laughs and it just furthers your frustration, it feels like it's about to boil over.

“You won't, you would've shot me already if you were going to. And I have my own ways of doing research, much more interesting than yarn strings, I had to see who I was up against.” You frown, but he's right. On the threat at least, it was a bluff and he'd called it. 

“I would also like to request you stop going into my apartment without my permission, Claude. Not that I don't  _ Love _ the message you left, I just don't appreciate the threat.”

“Really? I thought you'd love it.” His smirk is getting you off topic, just like the easy swell of his voice as he banters with you. You're just about to bite back a retort when he speaks again, “you seemed awful excited about it after your… hour long shower the day? High maintenance much?”

“I'm not high maintenance-”

“Definitely not, why else wouldn't you spend the money I gave you.” The twinkle in his eye is barely visible behind the mask but you catch it.

“-you what? You only ever paid for my groceries-”

“And that last hit, and a hefty tip, and I was going to give you cash that night at the bar-” the slap across his face echoes in the empty air and the air feels charged.

He raises his hand to rub at his jaw, but his smile doesn't fade. He was sickening and you wanted to strangle him, but when he lifts the mask you're frozen in place. His gaze seems like it's trying to burn through you, like you were the only thing grounding him.

The silence speaks louder than anything he'd said yet as he drops what you'd shoved onto him and he stalks towards you. His footsteps echo and you shrink for a half second before straightening and holding your gaze steady.

His hand comes up and you tighten your jaw to prepare for a hit back, only for him to grab you by the chin and pull you closer to him. You can feel the tension rolling under his skin and the panic trying to force its way past clenched teeth.

“I wouldn't do that, I don't like to hurt what's mine until I'm done with it, but I won't let you go so easily next time-”

The door smacks open to reveal an older janitor with headphones on. His eyes go wide when he sees the situation unfolding in the closet.

“Hey! No funny business! I swear you youngins are always lookin fer the worst spots to do yer canoodling and it always affects hardworkin guys like me-” 

You are immensely grateful for the interruption and shove Dream off of you. He stumbles into the walls and grabs your things and his mask before nodding to the janitor and getting ready to bolt. 

“-it ain't even Halloween! What is with that mask, I swear on everythin good in this world…” you smile at the man and apologize profusely before following Dreams lead and ducking out. 

Maybe the rest of the night would go a hit more smoothly.

\----

It didn't. All you confirm with him is that he still hates the nicknames and that he's not the only one with a hit on you and you aren't the only one with a hit on him. Thankfully you're able to avoid any more close calls, you can still feel a warm tingling feeling where he held you and it makes your nose wrinkle. 

“I'm telling you Sam, it wasn't Dream that made the shot-”

“How do you know that though?” He was pacing back and forth, and you really didn't want to tell the whole story. Thankfully you'd been able to drop Dream before heading to the bar, just for your own safety. And Sam’s. 

“I just do! There was no mask, and the gun was something he hasn't used before.” You bury your face in your hands and sigh. This was gonna be an issue. If you couldn't even be honest with Sam? 

“Fine, whatever, just- just don't come back to the Bar until we've got this handled. I can't have the place getting shot up like last summer.”

“But sam-”

“No buts. I should've handled this earlier, now there's more folks after you.”

You can see the guilt in his frame and concede. He doesn't need to worry more than he already is, and Ponk came first. You knew that. It's why you don't fight when he calls a cab for you and tells you he'll call. Won't visit, call.

\----

This was going better than expected for Dream. Save for the burning in his jaw left over from your ‘moment’ he had all he could want and more. You didn't kill him, you'd recognized him and looked so sweet when you were still reeling from the tackle. Being able to watch you up close was helpful in tracking your expressions, all of which got written into the journal. 

The way you huffed, scrunched your nose, the fire in your eyes right before you'd slapped him? All moments he wanted to remember. Most importantly was the twinge of fear when he'd pulled up the mask. Oh he could almost see how quickly your flame flickered in that moment. He wanted to consume you right then and there, but thankfully he was stopped. 

He didn't want this to end so soon. Not until you're fully his, fully enraptured with him will he strike. For now, all he had to do was play his part, kill a few people after you, maybe get you to melt under his gaze rather than run, and he'd be set. 

It was all so close, but he'd have to be patient. Man did he hate being patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised to drop the playlist! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/38ZVcmuRS5m9mERmJqjXi3?si=FDm5offWSGa4QswfDI8-CQ  
> Sorry for the shorter chapter, life is getting in the way rn. Hopefully I'll be back up to snuff soon.


End file.
